Bad Idea
by Zunurina
Summary: "And so we find ourselves in a nondescript location at five-freaking-thirty in the morning dumping it!" - Or: Sam and Bucky have a problem and need to get rid of it. K-plus for words you don't want your 2nd grader to say.


"This is a bad idea."

"Shut up and check the perimeter."

Sam Wilson sighed irritably before opening the driver's side door of the unmarked black SUV. Cold morning air slid right through his hoodie and jeans. He shivered. On the other side of the vehicle Barnes hopped out the passenger door. His arms were bare to the shoulder and there was no way his jeans could be any warmer than Sam's. Damn him and his Russian assimilation.

Sam glanced around, taking in the gravel parking lot, surrounding woods and the gravel drive they had come down to make it there. A small sign with words two small to read stood just to the left of the SUV. Barnes was walking the perimeter of the clearing, peering into the woods occasionally. Apparently his super-soldier eyes could see into the trees despite the five'o'clock in the freaking morning darkness.

Finally deciding they weren't being watched, Barnes returned to the car. He raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the hatchback. Sam shook his head.

"This is a bad idea." He repeated. The ex-assassin threw his arms in the air.

"Seriously Wilson. What do you want me to do?" He snapped. Sam mirrored Barnes's motion of defeat.

"I gave you the phone number!"

"I don't like talking on the phone!"

"You talk to Nat all the time!"

"That's different!"

"Because its in Russian?"

"I don't like talking on the phone." Barnes growled, with a glare. A trademarked Winter Soldier glare. A back-the-"f"-off glare. A don't-even-try-it glare. But Sam hadn't had any coffee yet this morning, so screw the glare.

"And so we find ourselves in a nondescript location at five-freaking-thirty in the morning dumping the damn thing!" He snapped back. Luckily, Barnes did have coffee this morning – bastard – and decided not to go psycho assassin on a tired, and obviously not thinking clearly Sam Wilson.

"I ask you again: what the hell do you want me to do?" He asked. Sam glanced around. The morning light was just beginning to peep over the trees. Had they really been here almost forty-five minutes?

"Not this! This is… its… its just wrong." He stuttered. Barnes popped the back of the car to reveal a blanket in roughly the shape of a long rectangular box. It moved at the sound of the car door opening.

"How is it wrong?" The ex-assassin asked. He carefully grabbed the end of the box with his metal hand. The boxed hissed and jerked menacingly. Sam stepped back to allow Barnes to pull the fully wrapped parcel out of the car.

"It just is." He told the other man. His argument was weak. He knew. Barnes knew. But it was still true. They were technically bending a few laws into roughly the shape of an umbrella.

"What else am I supposed to do? How else do I get rid of it?" Barnes asked as he lugged the box a few yards away from the car. The box tipped as he walked, something was shifting and pulling at his metal fingers but either he didn't feel it or he didn't care. Sam wasn't sure.

In regards to his question, Sam considered using the Captain America guilt trip. The: Steve-really-wants-you-to-be-good argument. The: imagine-Steve's-sad-patriotic-blue-going-to-cry-puppy-dog-eyes argument. But that had stopped working about four months ago when Barnes had begun to remember the childhood trouble those sad little eyes got him into. So instead, he pulled out the good ol' I-told-you-so argument.

"If you had left it alone like I told you."

"It was bugging me." Barnes snapped. Sam shook his head.

"Dude."

"Its not wrong." The metal-armed assassin insisted. "I could have just shot it." Sam glanced around on instinct. Anytime Barnes mentioned shooting anything outside the compound he had the involuntary response to make sure no one heard. Luckily, they were still well and truly alone.

And cold dammit.

"Ok. Fine. I'm done arguing. Let's dump it and go." He said. Barnes grinned happily, leaning down to unwrap his box.

It was actually a trap. Full of a fat, fuzzy, and very angry ring-tailed prisoner.

The black masked trash thief stared up at them, lunging at Barnes with an angry bark. He had been getting into the trashcans at night on the compound and once Bucky had figured out the culprit – with a full tactical gear stakeout – he had quickly purchased a trap and can of smelly cat food. Of course the next morning he had caught the damn raccoon and didn't have a plan to get rid of said animal. Sam had given him the conservation department's number but of course his phobia of talking on the phone had made him chicken out. And so Sam now found himself on a conservation area before the butt-crack of dawn helping Barnes release the angry critter.

Sam sighed. In some sense, it wasn't illegal. In fact they hadn't gone very far at all. The conservation area backed up to the Avenger's compound so its not like they were going to be spreading any diseases out of state or anything. Arguably there was a chance they were actually still on the compound grounds. The land lines were a little screwed when Stark was the one that paid for and all but owned the conservation area. It was just the principle of the thing he didn't like.

Barnes was talking to the critter, berating it for its attitude and warning it that he was saving its life. Stark could have set up an automatic laser beam death trap or some other ridiculous crap. The vicious little beast was having none of it. Lunging, barking, and hissing at Barnes while he unhooked the makeshift locks he's put on the trap's door at Sam's insistence. No way was he riding in a vehicle with the tiniest possibility of that thing getting loose.

No chance in hell.

Finally, Barnes pointed the door of the trap towards the woods and lifted the cage door. The fat little trash panda saw its opportunity and made a dash for it, running off into the woods without a second glance.

Barnes watched the creature disappear, listening to the rustling in the woods. After a moment, he nodded; satisfied the fuzzy monster was no longer in the area. Without a word, he placed the cage and blanket back into the SUV and closed the hatch. He then hopped into the passenger seat. Just as his door closed a green truck pulled down the gravel drive and parked next too them. A man hopped out, his two dogs barking and slobbering on the window. Sam waved politely.

"Chilly this morning." The man chirped. Sam nodded in agreement. It was flipping cold.

"Thought I'd take the dogs out before work." The man explained. Sam nodded again. He hadn't asked but ok. Small talk was good. He wasn't Barnes. He could totally handle small talk.

"Its a good place. Nice and quiet. My buddy and I just finished a hike." He said smoothly, gesturing towards the woods. Thank God he had decided to wear his hiking boots instead of his decidedly not hiking worthy designer tennis shoes. Visions of rabid raccoons scrabbling at his feet this morning was saving him that embarrassment.

The man absently glanced into the truck where Barnes was sitting with his left arm jammed into the seat, hidden from view. Said man reached over the center console and rolled down the window with his good arm.

"Gonna be late for gym Samuel." He called. Sam chuckled nervously. Idiot couldn't keep quiet for one second. What normal man took a hike in dense woods and then went straight to the gym?

"Asshole can hike a few miles and then kill me at the gym." He told the man. The man chuckled in response as he pulled two long leashes out of his truck bed. Sam dashed for the SUV and slid into the driver's seat, sending the dog-man another wave before closing the door and rolling his window up. He started up the vehicle and pulled out quickly.

Barnes was quiet.

It was Sam who broke the silence as they traveled up the gravel drive.

"No more trapping raccoons."

Barnes shook his head.

"There's another one. It has to go."

Sam groaned.

* * *

A/N:

I'm back dear followers! Full update on my long absence (seriously, like, a year and a half) on my profile if anyone is nosy as well as upcoming story updates.

Love you. Thanks for sticking with me.

So this is based on a recent experience of my own. Long story short Mr. Coonie decided to hurt one my geese and found himself in a nice comfy live-trap. In my state its legal to dispose of an animal that is destroying your property. In my personal morals you never end a life unless it ends up being worth something. I save _everything_. Meat, bones, pelt, organs, even the blood gets used. I don't believe in wasting a life. But when Mr. Coonie found himself in my trap I didn't have time to take care of him respectfully. So the only proper choice was to release him. But little Mr. Coonie (who was an asshole by the way, we had a nice long talk about his attitude, didn't do much but you can't say I didn't try) couldn't be released back to mess with my geese. So after checking my state's law about releasing wildlife Mr. Coonie got driven out to a proper area at the butt-crack of dawn on my way too work. I'm happy to report Mr. Coonie bounded off into the woods without a second glance and my geese will be safe from the little terror.  
BBQ'd Coon is delicious though.  
And there is another little asshole out there that is going to find himself joining his buddy in his new location here in the next few days.

Oh yeah, disclaimers:

Don't own Marvel or I wouldn't be writing this. Seriously. Figure that's pretty obvious but ok. Have it your way.  
Also, don't know conservation laws for New York State. Went with my own state's laws cause I was too lazy to look up NY's.  
I checked spelling. I know my grammar is sub-par. I always try to better myself but its an ongoing process. Please point out any mistakes and I shall endeavor to remember to fix them.

Ta-ta!


End file.
